


Daze

by Hustler



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Dorks, First Kiss, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustler/pseuds/Hustler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’ve had a longstanding headcanon that Rick has a thing for motorcycles, so I’d love to see what he makes of Daryl’s new ride!"</p>
<p>:D I tried my best :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamtheprophet_chuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtheprophet_chuck/gifts).



> I grew up around motorcycles, but I know shit on how they work. I hope I did the thing.

 

The first time Rick stared after a motorcycle with longing in his eyes he was nine, and his mama had thrown a serious fit.

They’d been on the road for a while, alone on the highway, on their way to his grandma’s house. The sun was setting and warmed their car seats, adding to the pleasant lull they had fallen under. Rick was practically dozing in the backseat.

A sudden roar disturbed the sleepy family, making everyone jerk in the direction of the noise. A blur caught up to them quickly and Rick turned in his seat to look in their rear window.

A motorcycle tailed them briefly before it swerved onto their left and drove alongside the car. The motorcyclist took their time before picking up speed, giving Rick the perfect view to take in every detail.

Rick felt a strong gust of freedom pound through his chest, looking at the motorcycle suspended in time, out on the open road.  

He rolled down his window quickly and suddenly the volume of the engine exploded in their car. The motorcycle picked up speed, and the rider’s jacket and jeans ruffled against the pressure of the wind. Chrome and metal caught the setting sun’s rays as it passed them and Rick had to look away from the burst of light.

When he looked again they were back onto the right lane, ahead of them and taking off, somewhere Rick wanted to follow. His mama yelled at him to put his window back up and the lecture began. He felt the heavy pit of guilt in his stomach at the disappointed tone in her voice.

\---

Years later, they were back on their annual visit to his grandmother’s house, this time, with the intent to take him horseback riding. Rick stayed alert the whole ride there, hoping to at least see one motorcycle. He didn’t even know if he wanted to ride one, he just liked looking at them.

His mom caught him through the rearview mirror a few times and he did his best to play it off.

The moment he was properly seated on a horse, and felt the terrifying power of a huge, live animal underneath him, he felt the age-old bitterness return. His mom was perfectly fine, eager at that, to let him ride a _horse,_ but warned him away from motorcycles? He narrowed his eyes and bit his tongue to keep himself in check.

\----  
At sixteen, his hormones were screaming things even he couldn’t understand. Everything made him hard, but only some things turned him on. It was a mess trying to figure his own body out.

Lori, bless her, helped him keep things in perspective, but even she couldn’t keep his obsession from twisting inside.

Motorcycles meant something else in high school. They meant trouble. Filthy, sex. The epitome of all the edgy elements of being a teenager. They were everything Rick Grimes was not, with his happy family, sweet girlfriend, and perfect life. They were all over magazines with beautiful people, in movies with nonstop action. They were fast and hard, like good sex should be. Or so he heard.  

He didn’t tend to fall under over sensationalized spells or trends, but for once, they got something right.

The smell of exhaust, the power in between his legs, engine roaring…ready to take him away. It sounded better than anything, better than sex.

He thought he found a substitute with Shane. He set the teenage rebellion in him on fire. That insatiable thirst that haunted him when he did all the right things and made everyone proud.

They did some stupid things when they were allowed to borrow cars, but it was never enough.

___

It raged strongly in him straight into adulthood.

When he was on duty with Shane, he’d stare after the bikers with envy and need, but Shane would mistake it for judgement. He’d make an ass out of himself then, and talk shit about them, like he was there for every sin they ever committed. Rick would change topics on him to get him to shut up, and to kill that wild thought of finally buying himself a bike.

Lori didn’t like them either.

__

Carl stared after them too, in that way Rick was sure he must have the first time he saw one, before it became something more. Rick stared with him, but after being called in for several accidents and finding mangled bikers in between the chaos, he repeated his mama’s and Lori’s words.

By then, the tempting roar of a motorcycle distanced itself from carnal tastes, and took that familiar tone from when he was a kid. It sounded like freedom eating up the miles, going somewhere far away. Somewhere Rick needed to go.  

__

Then there was Daryl Dixon.

He was a wild card and everything those magazines were parodying. He was skid marks turning off the highway, brake fluid staining the ground, shards of glass under tires, and wind biting at your face. He was vicious and scarred and he was nothing like the romantic fantasies of dramatic teenagers. He was real and nothing Rick could ever touch.

Rick felt ridiculous. The apocalypse was all around them and he still found himself distracted by the picture Daryl made riding ahead of them with his winged vest. Serene. Volatile. An extension of the road.

Late at night, in between all the horror, his mind would wander off to random fantasies of Daryl taking him out for lessons. His pleasantly gruff voice telling him the ins and outs of his bike. Sometimes, he imagined taking that bike from him, having his taste of nirvana, and then eagerly looking forward to the man’s ire.

\---  
The thing with Daryl had started somewhere in between lusting after his bike, and that night he took care of Dale.

Rick felt a lot of things towards Daryl. It wasn’t surprising he couldn’t muddle his way through them. He admired Daryl as a man, accomplished hunter, and cutthroat survivor. He loved him fiercely like a brother the more their friendship grew, and reality ate at them. He invoked a visceral envy, feeding off a life-long desire that curdled inside him, that turned into something eerily similar to his teenage fetish.    

At first, he didn’t know he was staring just as hard at Daryl’s arms as he was at the machine. Or, that he was itching to feel the strong thighs straddling the motorcycle, just as much as he wanted to run his hands over the seat beneath him.

He didn’t think anything of it when his hands tingled after cleaning walker gore from his hands with Daryl’s rag. He figured it was because he knew it was the rag Daryl used to wipe the frame down. He didn’t think it had anything to do with how he could feel Daryl’s worn and strong hands as he handed him the rag.

___

When they settled even further at the prison Daryl took more time to maintain the bike. Something bubbled up in Rick and he realized it was his chance. Just as he was taking time to learn how to farm from Hershel…he could learn everything there was to know about motorcycles from _Daryl_.

Daryl came to him sometimes smelling like metal and sweat and he almost worked the courage to ask.

It didn’t happen.

* * *

 

Rick finished his cup of coffee and went on to do his morning rounds, patrolling Alexandria. He felt like an entirely different animal around all the helpless people. He was on constant edge and pretending he was just as normal as them made the static in his head grow louder.

He continued on his route, taking mental notes of all of Alexandra’s weaknesses, plotting the takeover, and then he reached Aaron and Eric’s house.  

The garage door was open and inside there was a plethora of motorcycle parts. Things Rick couldn’t even guess the names or functions of. Various tools littered in between the parts, and there in the middle of it all, was Daryl’s new bike.

If Rick were still a teenager he would have embarrassed himself.

The motorcycle was rough and nothing like the classic ones he saw people pour thousands of dollars into. It wasn’t gleaming and it wasn’t flashy. It looked robust and efficient. Something that could make it out there. It looked like the hands that put it together. 

Rick wanted so much in that moment, a million fantasies whispering to him.

He suddenly felt jealous of Daryl getting another motorcycle, getting to build the damn thing, and he was jealous of Aaron, for giving Daryl that gift. He wanted to be the man to give Daryl everything he needed. He wanted to be the one involved with Daryl and his motorcycle, not some random, disturbingly nice stranger.

Daryl appeared then, strapping on his crossbow to the back of it. Rick shivered when Daryl straddled the bike and it moved, settling under his weight. Daryl turned it on and revved the engine, testing it out.

It was powerful and proud. Clean.

Daryl waved behind him and then Rick saw Aaron coming out, closing the garage behind him. Rick couldn’t help the bitter jealousy he felt towards the man. When Aaron got into his car and Daryl waited for him, Rick made his move.

He walked up to Daryl while Aaron situated himself. Daryl immediately turned to him and waited for him to speak first.

“We’re going on a run,” Rick stated, firmly.

Daryl nodded and let his hair fall into his face. “Aaron said we’ll be back before dinner.”

Rick felt his lips curl in frustration. He wanted to tell _Aaron_ they could recruit another day, but he had to follow his own rules. They were supposed to look like they were trying.

“See you then,” Rick said, and walked away, feeling Daryl staring after him.  

___  
Daryl looked tense resting against his bike, watching Rick walk up to him.

Rick wondered if it was because he hadn’t changed out of his uniform, or if his mask was splintering under his lust.  

“Where are we going?” Daryl asked, softly.

“Out.” Rick answered, without further explanation, eyeing the motorcycle.

“We’re taking your bike.”

Daryl looked shocked, but the tension in his body quickly dissipated. He gave Rick a hesitant look, biting his lip.

Rick’s walls came down for a second as he felt his stomach flutter. “Okay?” he asked.

Daryl shyly looked away, a smile turning his lips up.

“Carol’s not coming?” he asked, knowing the answer. Rick shook his head.

Rick watched him mount the bike then, and his mouth watered. Daryl’s hands clenched before he turned to look back at Rick.

“Hop on,” he said.

Rick swallowed.

Gravel crunched under his shoes as he took careful steps toward the motorcycle, the noise of the community died down, and the smell of metal and leather poured over him. Then he saw the space he was supposed to sit in. Pressed right up against Daryl’s body.

Rick took a deep breath and set his hands on Daryl’s shoulders to steady himself as he threw a leg over. He could feel Daryl’s hard muscles shifting slightly through his leather jacket. He finally had that sweet machine underneath him and he slid his hands down Daryl’s shoulders, and wrapped them around his waist and leaned into him. He could feel Daryl’s careful breaths, and imagined Daryl could feel his delirious heartbeat.     

“You ready?” Daryl whispered.

Rick spread one of his hands on Daryl’s stomach, touching as much of him as he could.

“Yeah,” Rick whispered back.

Rick felt a rumble against his chest and then heard Daryl actually laugh, it was small and brief, but it was goddamn beautiful. Daryl turned the engine on, making Rick dig his nails into Daryl’s jacket and groan into the back of Daryl’s neck. It was better than he ever imagined.  

__

Rick held on tightly. The air was chilly as it whipped around them, the setting sun took its overwhelming heat with it, and the scent of earth drifted around them. Rick felt like a blur of neon speeding through the twilight. He felt invincible, something strumming through him, bringing peace in its wake. The mood of the land suddenly soaked into his bones and the world never looked so beautiful.

Fortunately, there wasn’t anything in their way as the rode down the highway. It was open, just like he always imagined. Rick looked down and he loved how much closer they were to the ground than when he rode on horseback. It was nothing like being on an animal. It was steadier and smoother than any well trained horse could ever be.

Daryl’s soft hair flew into his face and it tickled his newly-shaven face. He took that as an excuse to duck his head down, and rest it solidly against Daryl’s back for a moment. Nothing could ever take away the feeling of having Daryl in his arms, alive, on the majesty of the machine he had built, chasing away the light.

Alexandria didn’t exist. Walkers, if they were out there, couldn’t even phase them in that moment.

Light rain began to smatter them, and it felt like glory falling into his hair and running down his neck, into his shirt. Daryl slowed down gradually, and then Rick felt Daryl’s hand rest over his. Daryl patted him twice and then pointed at an old house.

They came to a stop and they both touched their legs to the ground. Rick didn’t want to get off, and he didn’t want to let go of Daryl. He rested his forehead against Daryl’s shoulders, and Daryl covered Rick’s hand with his own again.

“C’mon,” Daryl rasped.

Rick nodded and climbed off. They both shivered at the cool evening slithering over the spaces they had been pressed against each other.

“It’s beautiful.” Rick said, gesturing to his motorcycle.  

Daryl didn’t hold back his smile and shrugged a shoulder.

“Really. It’s amazing.”

Daryl snorted and leaned back on the house. “How many bikes you been on, officer?” Daryl teased.

Rick laughed and scooted up close to him, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“That was my first time,” Rick answered happily.

He turned to look at Daryl. Daryl felt his gaze, but didn’t move away or distract like he always did when they were in close proximity.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t call it what it is,” Rick said.

Daryl looked back at Rick then, looking gorgeous with the last light of the day catching on his clear blue eyes.  Rick was done holding back. They’d been through too much and that ride had given Rick a taste of paradise.

He leaned in slowly, his hand cupping Daryl’s face. Daryl trembled underneath him, and licked his lips, but he met Rick halfway. Daryl’s lips were soft and rough in the places they were peeling. He moved nervously, but very obviously just as hungry as Rick was.

Rick pushed forward and Daryl brought his own hands up and held onto Rick’s jacket, over his chest. Rick moved them against the wall of the house and slipped his leg in between Daryl’s. Daryl leaned back into the wall and spread his legs a little to give Rick more room.

Rick was lost in the tender kiss until he felt Daryl tugging at his chest. He pulled away and Daryl panted into the air, he looked absolutely wrecked after only one kiss.

Rick looked down at Daryl’s hand and noticed he had it wrapped firmly around his badge. Daryl finally opened his eyes and glared at Rick.

“What?” He asked angrily.

Rick looked down at his hand before looking back at him. Even in the dark, Rick could tell Daryl was bright red.

“Don’t judge me. You got a thing for motorcycles,” Daryl said spitefully.

Rick had the decency to be somewhat embarrassed, but he wasn’t surprised Daryl figured it out. The man squirmed in his arms and Rick felt like giving him a hard time. He raised his eyebrows at him and waited.

“Who gets worked up over a damn machine? I felt your damn dick against my ass the second you got on, what the fuck?” Daryl rambled on in his embarrassment, but he still hadn’t let go of Rick’s badge.

Rick laughed then and kissed Daryl’s cheek in apology. Daryl looked at him skeptically and rubbed his fingers over the badge again. Daryl kissed him that time, apparently over his outburst. Before Rick knew it Daryl was sneaking tongue in.

The rain was starting to hit them harder, but they didn’t care. They made out like a couple of teenagers, gave each other teasing gropes, but never took it too far.

__

On their way back, they finally ran into a few walkers. Daryl stopped and took out his knife, he looked back at Rick with a smirk and then Rick was getting out his own knife. They made a game out of it. Daryl would charge at them at full force, and then slow down right before crashing into them, turning at the last second, and letting Rick jam his knife into their skulls.  

It was the most fun Rick had had before reaching Alexandria. He was sure he could say the same for Daryl.

The rain washed away the blood before they made it back, and just before they called someone to open the gate, Rick pulled Daryl into a last kiss.

“Sleep with me, tonight?” Rick asked in whisper. He wanted nothing more than to hold him close again. 

__  
  
Daryl parked the motorcycle in their garage and Rick felt complete.

* * *

 

 Special thanks to [take_a_bow06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06), thanks for the music, you really saved my butt!

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> y'all should really check out the song "Daze" by Poets of the Fall. I wrote this to the lyrics of that song, and to the music of their instrumental song "Rogue". Also, Drive by Incubus is in the seams of this <3 "Heaven" by Depeche Mode kept the process going.


End file.
